In Spades
by R.S. Valentine
Summary: Well here is a pairing you don't see often enough. Little MarvDwight action here...


IN SPADES

Dwight's Fiasco

I don't know what it is about this dark, muggy Wednesday evening. Maybe it's that whiff of ozone I keep getting. Whatever it is, it's off… Not dangerous, for once, just…Off. Everything's all hazy, even my brain. I hate that feeling.

Kadie's.

The door seems to loom before me, a big gaping mouth all ready to swallow ol' Dwight.

"Well, I've lived a full life," I mumble to no one in particular. It's stupid, I realize, fearing the one place I know is safe…That's when a man starts to question his sanity. Any man but me, that is. I never had a whole lot to begin with, so why question what you don't have? A waste of time.

Lots of people, typical. Nancy's heating the place up as usual, but she isn't what I'm looking at. She's too young anyway. I'm not actually looking **for** anything per se, I just have this feeling in my gut…I don't get those too often anymore.

The place is packed…But I already mentioned that. Says something about my state of mind. Something indeed.

"Hey buddy," a disembodied voice. Is he talking to me? Boy I'm out of it. A huge hand claps me on the back, a friendly gesture. There's that smell again, that ozone. There's a charge in the air. Might just be a storm rolling over. Those don't happen often either. I lock eyes with him. Just Marv, no big deal. Not for me. Marv's a friend, always has been. He's a big guy, awful rough looking.

"Nice coat," I know just the way to greet him. He gives one of his famous crooked, oddly boyish smiles and claps me on the back again. A smaller man would be knocked to the floor; fortunately, I'm blessed with a behemoth frame compared to most guys. For as big as I am, though, Marv's a whole lot bigger. I'm glad he's on my side. A crash from the other side of the room alerts both of us to an ensuing brawl. Marv wants to join. I sit in a booth and wait it out. The big man throws himself wholly into the struggle, breaking bones, faces and prides left and right.

"You're that punk ass who trashed my--" whoever he is, his face is looking awful black and blue, a red converse sneaker, size nine and a half thrust into it.

"Yeah, that was me."

The fight dies down and Marv slides in across from me, that silly grin plastered on his face. There it is again, that charge.

"Storm's coming," I mutter, as if to myself. He hears me but says nothing. Marv's a good guy. He doesn't ask what's wrong, he just sits there, smiling and drinking. I like Marv. I like him a lot.

"What'll it be hun?" Shellie. She's a sweet girl. We dated awhile. It wasn't working. We didn't fight but there was something about me she didn't like. It doesn't make her any less of a doll. I don't want anything but Marv sure does. With that friendly smile, she swaggers off to her next table.

"You busy?"

Marv's tone. What was it? The electricity was thick again. Maybe there WAS a storm outside. Maybe the wind was picking up. In Kadie's, however, the temperature had risen.

"No."

My answer is quick, low. Nothing different about the way I address Marv any other day. Nothing. That's what my head says. Nothing.

"You wanna…Hang at my place?"

Marv has a place?

"Sure."

Another quick, low answer and we stand. I leave Shellie a nice tip and a thank-you note in my messy, lefty scrawl on a napkin. Marv leads the way as we exit. Nancy waves and I nod in acknowledgement. Something tells me she knows more about what's going on than I do. The weather is as I suspected, muggy. There's rain coming. I walked to Kadie's, thought I needed the exercise so my Caddy was back home.

"New car," I comment. It's a convertible. I'm going to get wet and I know it. I climb in the passenger seat and Marv slides in the other side.

"Runs like a dream," he says. As he fires her up, I'm inclined to believe otherwise but I don't complain. Marv and I share the same taste in vehicles. We like the classics. The electric feeling is back, or did it ever leave? I'm not so sure I'm thinking straight, another feeling I'm not a big fan of. He takes off up the road, one hand on the wheel. A minute or two into the drive and I start to wonder where his other hand is. I'm a big guy, like I said, and for anyone to get their arm around me, they'd have to be bigger. Marv is bigger. His arm is over my shoulder. I don't care.

"Rain," he mumbles. Little drops begin to fall. The moisture is cleansing more than annoying. He doesn't care either, figures. To a guy THAT mean looking, rain is the least of his worries. Seems to be a lot of not caring going on recently. When's it all turn into something else? A desensitization or a feeling beyond the realm of apathy.

The car continues on.

Marv's Fixation

Goddamn dames. All of 'em…They're all fragile, every last one. That or they don't want me near 'em. THAT I can understand. I am one ugly mug. I'm driving for a place I know is safe. A little back-alley bar.

Kadie's

Nancy's a sweetie, between routines, she listens to everything I have to say. Such a sweet little girl. God knows I'd do anything for that doll. Here eyes fix on me as I talk. I can't begin to imagine how she can put up with my halting speech. I ain't the smartest guy in the world, not by a long shot. Hell, I can barely string a sentence together, much less talk about my…Feelings? Goddamn dames are getting to me.

"So it's like this, Nancy," I pause and think. How do I say this without completely killing it? There's really no way around it, "Every dame I meet's either scared to death of me or dead."

"It's simple Marv," she replies sweetly. Nancy's such a good girl, "You don't need a woman."

"But I'm missin' something'."

I'm insisting out loud the thing the cold hole in my gut is telling me to insist. Something needs to be there, I'm sure of it.

"Let me finish Marv," she says, "You don't need a woman. Oh it's so easy, you need a man. Someone who won't die on you or be scared of you."

She may as well have taken off my nuts with that one. Insisting I'm some sort of queer, some fruity man lover. She sees my reaction.

"Listen, Marv," she whispers gently, "I know it's a crazy thing…But I've got an idea."

At this point I'm feeling crazy enough to try anything. Something about her words kicks me on the inside. It makes sense.

"You need a real tough guy, someone you're already friends with…Yeah, I think you know who I'm talking about--"

She's up on stage. She's a working girl, doesn't have time for thugs like me. Well she shouldn't, but she makes time and that means a lot. And yeah, I have a pretty good idea of who she's talking about. His frame nearly fills the door as he walks in. Yeah, he's a big guy. Not as big as me but, who is? His ice blue eyes scan the area with less intensity than usual. Actually, the man is looking downright glazed.

"Hey buddy."

I clap him on the back. I know just how to play it. So does he.

"Nice coat," like it was scripted. A fight breaks out and I'm in my element. He heads for a booth and I dive into the fray. I'm busting chops and having a great time when I hear an unfamiliar voice shout.

"You're that punk ass who trashed my--"

A crunch.

"Yeah, that was me."

Dwight McCarthy. I'm starting to see it. The man is indestructible. Back to the action. A punch here, a sock there. Am I hitting harder because Dwight's watching? I swagger back over to the booth and slide in across from him. I am dead set on getting hammered until our eyes lock again and those blue orbs drill into my head. He isn't saying anything out loud, and I don't think he means to say anything with his eyes but he is.

"Storm's coming," he says. I'm drinking, but I can't help it. It's not as much as usual, that's a relief. I want to be sober. See I got this condition, but everyone knows that. He knows that but he ain't scared. I like that. I like him. Shellie comes by and then everything's hazy. It's not her, she isn't the one making everything blurry. I know she isn't because I'm looking at him. The rest of the time we spend at Kadie's passes like a blur of seconds. That feeling in my gut's more of a tickle than anything else now and I like it. I think it's Dwight.

"New car," he says. We're outside Kadie's. How'd we get here? Ah well, I'm sober and happier than I've been in months. I respond, but I don't remember how. It made him smile in either case. Dwight smiles a lot more now with that new face of his.

We're driving to nowhere. I think he knows but he doesn't let on. He's a good friend. My arm settles itself around his broad shoulders. How'd that get there? I feel his muscles underneath flexing. They aren't tense. He's scooting closer. I don't believe it.

"Rain…" I think that's what I said. It IS raining. I don't do anything about it. Neither does he. A sideways glance at him tells me he's pleased with it. I don't claim to be a genius in the field of emotions but his eyes are closed and he's not frowning. Is it that he doesn't care? I hope he isn't just humoring me. Why'm I hoping that? I'm thinking too much. I ain't a thinker, I'm a doer. There's an old motel ahead on the road. I look sideways at him again.

"Sure," he says, without me even asking. I slow the car and pull in the lot.

"I'll get a room," I tell him. We both know how it would look with two big guys like us walking in a motel for a room. The last thing we need're Sin City's finest on our tails. I'm not wanted for murder but they'd suspect us both. He gets out, too. It's raining hard now. I walk in and he remains by the car, just standing. I wonder what he's thinking? Getting a room ain't hard. It's late and the old man running the counter leaves almost as soon as he hands me the key. Good, won't have to worry about him. I head back out and Dwight's eyes are focused off in the distance, away from the city. I jingle the keys.

"Yeah," he says. He follows me in without another word. It's a lousy room alright. I'm not surprised about that. I AM surprised, however, by the size of the bed.


End file.
